Things are going well.
Let me say that again.
Things are going well.
It bears repeating because in the great, grand scheme of life, things truly are going well. But for the last few weeks, that statement only feels true about 10% of the time.
Almost all of my present unhappiness, anxiety, and frustration are related to the extra weight I’m carrying. The bad feelings are compounded by fact that I’m handling it so poorly. Why should some PMS/ibuprofen water weight send me into this tailspin? And why am I consciously shoving unhealthy food into my mouth knowing full well that I’m *ensuring* guilt and emotional chaos?
Am I punishing myself for getting injured? For daring to think I might actually be strong (when on some level I still don’t believe I deserve that confidence)? Some heavy questions for a sunny Wednesday.
Things have been considerably better since I resumed working out a week ago. The mere fact that I’ve done eleven workouts in the last seven days should quell any fears I have about abandoning my athletic lifestyle. Apparently, I’m not in a place to accept reality if it’s positive.
Today, I had my first outside run. My intention was to run conservatively and respond to any signals from my foot. Most of the signals came from my heaving lungs and I spent 3 miles simultaneously celebrating my pain-free foot and lamenting my loss of cardiovascular fitness. What I didn’t realize until I finished was that I ran considerably faster than I thought and planned. In fact, after my conservative warm-up mile, I basically did a funky progressive tempo-y run.
During the run, I felt like it was going rather poorly. It felt hard. In a more generous moment, I wondered if I had simply forgotten that even easy running is harder than hard anything else. Still, I was not impressed with myself. Then I reviewed the splits. Now, eight painless hours later, I recognize that it was a triumph.
My response to today’s success was to defer my entry to the Oakland Half Marathon. I may or may not elaborate on that decision but it basically came down to the fact that I want my next half to reflect the fitness I’ve gained since last October. I don’t want to PR by the skin of my teeth. I don’t want a medal for running conservatively and obsessing over my foot for two hours straight. I don’t want to re-injure myself. I don’t want to hold back. I want to crush it.
And I will.
I mean it.